


Mime

by getyouwhateverthepayne



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, cliche peter pan!louis, halloween party, im cryin i wrote this in fifteen minutes, someone take my computer away from me??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:04:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/getyouwhateverthepayne/pseuds/getyouwhateverthepayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry’s a mime for Halloween, Niall gets him to talk. <br/>Written for storalik's prompt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mime

**Author's Note:**

> hey pals so this lil nugget was written for [this tumblr post](http://storalik.tumblr.com/post/85380300337)
> 
> i hope you like it an you can also read it on [my tumblr](http://getyouwhateverthepayne.tumblr.com/post/85430990029/mime-narry) ayyyyyyyyy

“I’m not fucking doing that, Lou,” Niall says, shaking his head fast once he sees the packet his friend is holding in his hands. “No.”

Louis just tosses the bag at him and smirks. “I’ll be your Peter Pan.”

“So old. That joke is literally so old.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not creative,” Louis sighs, “and anyway, you’d make a great Tinker Bell.” He flops down beside Niall on their couch, staring blankly at the television screen like he always does after coming home from bar-tending, and then scrunches up his face. “Or superheroes,” he thinks aloud.

“Whose party is this again, Zach?”

“Zayn. Who works at the bar with me. He said he’d bring some friends along, as well.”

“Friends? What, did you tell him I’m a lonely sod so he’s bringing the calvary?”

“Yes.” Niall knows Louis well enough to know the difference between truth and heavy sarcasm, and unfortunately this is the truth. “There’s a boy he wants you to meet.”

“I’m not hopeless,” Niall mutters.

“You are, a bit,” Louis deadpans, before changing the channel to a football game and groaning loudly when the other team immediately scores. “’s okay, love you anyway. So are you coming or what?”

“When is it?”

“Tomorrow.”

“I’m not Tinker Bell.”

Louis just raises his eyebrows with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll always be, inside.”

“And I don’t want to be set up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Louis knows he has won and has therefore lost all interest in the conversation, as per usual. “Oh, and his name’s Harry.”

“Lou.”

“Just saying.”

Niall takes the Tinker Bell costume and throws it in the trash on the way to his room. If he’s going, he’s going to be Superman.

-

“Niall? Hi, I’m Zayn, Lou’s friend.” A thin hand reaches over the bar, rented out for the night, and grasps Niall’s hand with a kind shake. “Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, from—”

“From Lou, yeah. Sorry ‘bout that. Never shuts up sometimes.” Niall smiles, filing away in his brain for later that Zayn is actually gorgeous and no wonder Louis actually got off his arse and styled his hair for this, and he has to use that against him in the near future.

“You want something to drink?” Zayn asks, putting his hands on the counter and glancing briefly toward the bathroom door where Louis’ just disappeared. Niall can’t help but feel a little more kindly toward Zayn.

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Zayn reaches under the counter and pulls out a bottle. “Glass?”

“Thanks.” Just as he’s taking a sip, he feels a presence beside him, and watches Zayn stiffen a little and adjust his shirt and Niall nearly laughs. “Hi, Lou,” he says, not even looking.

Louis just clamps a hand on his shoulder and shakes it. “Tinker Bell, where’s your costume? Not as fond of all this saving the world business you’ve got going on.”

It’s a pretty lame costume, really, Niall has to be honest: just an old blue Superman t-shirt he borrowed off a friend and a half-assed cape. He’s wearing jeans.

Louis, on the other hand, apparently wasn’t lying about the Peter Pan thing; his hair is feathered beneath a green cap and Niall’s pretty sure he sees a dusting of a few sparkles beneath his eyes. There’s a boy who’s just appeared to his left, Niall notices, who’s hanging back in what might be a prison getup, waiting for a seat at the bar. But then he’s got suspenders and white gloves and Niall just notices the pale white paint on his face, some of which is stuck on his loose curls.

“Mime,” Niall says out loud, nodding once he realizes. The boy looks at him when he hears that and does the ‘a-ok’ hand thing, and Niall laughs. He half-notes Zayn do an almighty eye roll. “And my costume’s not that shit, Lou.” Then he goes back to staring at mime boy, who is still determinedly keeping his mouth shut. Niall almost wants to laugh because if anything, the boy looks a little proud of that fact.

Except he looks pretty ridiculous, actually, Niall thinks; his full lips are painted with a small splotch of red that shouldn’t remind him of Queen Amidala but totally does, and there are a couple dots of black paint down his cheeks. But if he blushes under Niall’s inquiring gaze, the paint is too thick to tell. “Hi,” Niall says, raising a hand in a wave.

The boy just looks at him and fucking starts doing the stuck in a box move. Niall has to take another sip of his beer and shake his head.

“Anyway,” Niall can hear Louis saying to Zayn, leaning over the bar, “you need help? The place is starting to fill up.”

Niall watches with a smirk as Zayn nods like it’s whatever, even though it totally isn’t. “Yeah, yeah, cool, Lou. Thanks.” And then Louis fucking winks and Zayn scrunches up his face in a squinty, pretty smile, and fuck, Niall needs to learn how to do that. He feels mime boy sit down next to him, so he turns to look.

He’s got big eyes, is the first thing Niall notices, even from just his profile, with curled, long lashes that match his hair, and his lips are a lot nicer without seeing the messily drawn — though Niall could tell it had taken him quite a while — lipstick.

Okay, so maybe coming wasn’t such a bad idea.

He kind of hopes Louis forgets about setting him up with that Harry boy, because he’d much rather stay here with the cute mime boy instead. He clears his throat.

It’s when the boy finally looks at him, up close enough for Niall to not only notice that his big pretty eyes are green but also flecked with gray and gold and blue — that Niall feels a flutter of actual nervousness.

“You…you a friend of Zayn’s, then?” he asks, barely managing to not trip over his words. His grip is a bit tight on his glass as the boy nods quickly, keeping up the charade, his big eyes never leaving Niall’s. There’s a hint of a grin there, too. Niall will not accept this.

“I know Lou, obviously. You know him?”

The boy hesitates, then shrugs his shoulders and does some movement with his gloved hand that Niall takes to mean as more or less.

“Is my costume really that shit?” Niall asks quickly. He watches deep dimples form in the boy’s cheeks, and, okay, he kind of wants to see what they taste like, and, yeah, he definitely hopes he doesn’t meet this Harry now.

The mime boy refrains himself from laughing, however, and instead brings his hands down to his lap to twiddle his thumbs, cocking his head to look Niall up and down. Then he shakes his head. His brown curls kind of go everywhere, falling down from their messily styled quiff, and for a moment, his eyes are covered, and Niall can hear the exhale of breath that is the boy trying to stop his own laughter.

Niall has to physically stop himself from reaching over to fix it, and instead he takes a large gulp of his beer which, somehow, is more than half gone, and then asks the mime boy if he’s going to get something to drink too. The boy thinks for a moment, his knee accidentally brushing against Niall’s as he swivels his stool a bit, and then nods.

And then fucking takes Niall’s glass from his hands and takes a small, eager gulp and then hands it right back.

Niall stops. His mouth hangs open. No one can fucking drink his beer. But then he looks down at the rim of the glass, and there’s a smudged stain of his lipstick around the edge, and the boy is still next to him with squinty happy eyes and his knee is still against Niall’s and, okay, maybe it’s not that bad.

He looks up from his glass to see the boy gazing at him from beneath his eyelashes, his laughter fading into actual concern because Niall’s still not changed his face from the gaping open mouth expression. The concern then fades into a small puppy pout, which is inexplicably cute and Niall thinks maybe if he keeps this offended look on his face the boy’s lips will start pouting enough that he can accidentally fall forward and reach them.

Instead, he shakes his head and keeps up the charade of being offended. If the boy can mime being in a box, Niall can mime being this.

“Can’t believe you’d do that,” he says, frowning. He places his glass on the table and crosses his arms. “You horrible, horrible person.”

He sees from the corner of his eye the boy is shaking his head back and forth, looking more and more worried and more and more frantic.

“You’ll have to make it up to me,” Niall says, swiveling his stool just a bit so they’re facing again, their knees knocking enough for Niall to be momentarily distracted by the butterflies in his stomach. “You want to make it up to me?” Slowly, Niall leans forward until his mouth is quite close to the boy’s lips and he’s looking straight at him, and mime boy is now nodding unashamedly.

Niall glances up at him and moves past his mouth, accidentally grazing his nose against the boy’s cheek, and there’ll be paint on his face for that, but he finds he quite likes that thought, actually. He can feel the boy’s breath quicken as he whispers in his ear. “Tell me your name,” he breathes, before pulling back so he can look at him.

The mime boy’s eyes are blown wide, and Niall’s mouth is so close to his own that he can see the boy’s lips actually purse an infinitesimal amount, as if preparing for Niall to just get on with it and kiss him.

Well. Niall puts a gentle hand on the boy’s neck before flicking his eyes down to his lips and plunging, licking the boy’s bottom lips and opening his mouth enough to completely stutter the boy’s breathing, before the boy is kissing back and there’s a quiet groan in the back of his throat, and that sound reminds Niall of why he’s just flicked his tongue in his mouth in the first place. He nibbles the boy’s lip softly and then pulls back again, smiling as the boy tries to follow him, his hand still gentle on his neck. “What’s your name?” he breathes again, slightly out of breath.

The boy looks so overwhelmed that he can’t stop himself as the word tumbles off his tongue. “Harry,” he gasps, breathing heavily before leaning forward to catch his lips on Niall’s again. But as much as he wants to, Niall can’t. He pulls back and starts laughing.

“Harry,” is all he says.

The mime boy, who now he supposes he must call Harry, frowns and looks at him. “Something funny?” but Niall just shakes his head and places a hand on the boy’s thigh as he leans forward again to kiss him, lingering enough so that it looks like Harry’s forgotten they were even talking when Niall starts again.

“Of course you’re Harry, why wouldn’t you be.”

There’s a beat before Harry seems to get it, his now smudged pink lips dropping into a small ‘oh.’ “Niall?”

“Zayn—“

“Louis, probably—“

“Yeah.” Niall laughs hard, scrunching his eyes up until he can’t see, and then shakes his head. “Can we start this again? Hi, I’m Niall. I’m your blind date, apparently.”

“Harry. I get way too excited about costume parties.”

“Nice to meet you, Harry.”

“Nice to meet you, Niall.”


End file.
